


Epistolary Grief

by LazyCatLad



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Epistolary, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, One Shot, Poetry, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyCatLad/pseuds/LazyCatLad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil left a note before killing himself. The letter was addressed to none other than, of course, his roommate. And Todd will have a hard time accepting what he's read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epistolary Grief

"Dear Todd,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t stay and support you anymore. I’m sorry you’ll have to make it without me, but I don’t have a choice. I’m not even sure my father will let you have this letter. I’m not even sure why I’m writing this. You’re the one that’s good with words; I’m only good with a mask, a role.  
He wants to stop me from playing, wants to send me to military school. And I know he will, and I can’t stop him. I can’t run away, I’m too weak, too scared, and he’ll find me. He always finds me.  
And even if it would still be possible for me to pursue that dream, in a wild scenario, there’s another thing this world won’t ever allow me. I saw the glances, the light winces when I stare at you a bit too long, when I’m not interested in girls. I even think you knew, but you never spoke about it, and I can see why. I’m disgusting.  
You don’t want a friend like me, with these weird thoughts and needs. I am not what you thought I was. I’m not brave, I’m not talented and I’m not funny. I’m just a scared, piteous little freak who knows how to lie and how to love you.  
So I’m going. It’s probably better for all of us. When you’ll mourn, you won’t mourn the real me, so don’t worry. I’ve been dead for a long time now, and I don’t regret anything.  
No, I’m lying again. I will regret some things. The feeling backstage, on stage, the thrill. And you. Always you. Even when I had to contain myself and turn miserable and frustrated. I’ll regret your smile and your laugh and your big, sad blue eyes. And your verses, your way of talking so little, but to always say the important things. You see, now, why I have to die. I’m sorry; you probably don’t want to read this. I’m so sorry.

Goodbye, my friend. I was crazy, and I hope you won’t miss me, but forgive me anyway.

Neil Perry"

 

   
"You idiot.

I’ll go to the darkest corners of Hell. I’ll search the world and the sky, the deepest seas and highest, coldest heights. Neil Perry, you’re not dead. Not like this. I refuse to believe your lies again.  
You can’t go saying you love me, and saying you’re ashamed. Neil, since when did a gun talk more clearly than a tongue? Why, dear God, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you kiss me when your dreamt image did so every night? How couldn’t you see? You’ve always been egocentric, blinded by your own torturing feelings. I know you thought of yourself as unworthy, despicable and ugly. Now I’d give anything to go back in time, and make you see yourself through my own eyes.  
Because your smile, the real genuine smile I’ve been lucky to see from time to time was celestial. Your words and actions, always brave, raw, sensitive. Your dark eyes reflected thousands of worlds I wanted to dive into. I love you, with the dizziness of first loves and crawling intensity of passions, running in my veins. And I’m shy, and coward, and I never run after anything. But I ran in the snow yelling your name, going in any direction where my fogged mind could hear a pulse, to find you, to save you, to love you enough so you could forget everything but this.  
That’s why I don’t believe you. Don’t you see? You’re in me. You won’t go. And I shouldn’t be still living without you; it’s unfair and impossible. So I’m sure you left, I’m sure you escaped your father. This disfigured body wasn’t yours, because I didn’t recognize the line of your jaw or the thickness of your hair. I’ll find you. And you’ll realize the mistake you’ve made.

See you soon. And don’t leave me again.

Todd Anderson"

 

   
"You’re dead.

They told me to repeat it everyday, to write it down every minute.  
You’re dead. Neil Perry, you’re dead.  
They told me to stop talking to you like you were there.  
Neil Perry is dead. He is dead.  
Dead.  
But what’s death? You escaped your body, little bird. I’m glad for you. But you’re not dead. You’re with me, always with me.  
Neil Perry is dead.  
They told me to stop writing to you, or about you. To change subjects for my sonnets. But you’re all that’s inside of my head, and I’ve found my muse in the shape of a ghost.  
He is dead.  
How absurd is it that they still shame me, when I’ve never even kissed you? When I never will? Oh, no, I will. Because you’ll come back.  
Neil Perry is dead.  
I think you moved away to England so you could find Mister Keating again. I’m sure you’re in his high school and do a lot of theater. And you talk about me constantly; you’ve had my letter on your grave and copied it so it wouldn’t look suspicious. You read it everyday and you’re sorry, and when we’ve reached majority, you’ll come back and get me. Or I’ll go join you, I don’t care. And I’ll kiss you a thousand times to stop time. We’ll be together. We’re already together.  
Neil Perry shot himself in the head; the blood was running outside of his brain. He collapsed instantly, didn’t even go through pain. There was gunpowder on his fingers and stains on his neck. There were his wide dark eyes looking at nothing, empty of any fantastic galaxy. There were his opened and cold lips still pink with life and slowly turning white. And he rested. And he rests now. Under the ground, under the world he was bullied by. And he loved me.  
This nightmare can’t be real.  
I won’t forgive you. Ever.

Todd Anderson"

 

   
"Today I ate a bit, even took a shower.  
Today I got dressed-up and walked into the park.  
I saw a glowing sun, I heard a doggie bark.  
A girl saw me and smiled, I smiled right back at her.

I cleaned up my bedroom, knowing I had to go.  
We’re at the end of June and I’ll soon turn eighteen.  
I leave Welton happy but won’t forget it’s been  
The place where I found you, the place that saw me grow.

They have been kind enough to remove your old bed  
Just a few days after I swallowed too much bleach.  
With a bit of training, I learned how to stop each  
Urge to lie on this spot where before you were laid.

I stopped writing verses, I know, for far too long.  
Time has been speeding up and dragging lately.  
I missed my flashing life, died in eternity  
Agonized in a place where I thought I belonged.

Today I talked a bit, went through conversations.  
Managed to concentrate on the flight of a bird.  
I closed my eyes and thought of you, it didn’t hurt.  
I felt armies of cells inside. There were billions.

I saw old faces known by both of you and me.  
We shook hands, porcelains afraid of each contact,  
Afraid of breaking still, and putting up an act.  
They’re sorry and careful; I don’t want them to be.

I decided to live. Now I know that it’s true  
What they say. Remember? What doesn’t kill you first  
Makes you stronger, adult and living with a thirst.  
My only regret is you never felt it too.

I’ll still go to England, even if you’re not there.  
Focus on the living, they say. I know they’re right.  
Keating will wait for me. He said I’m far too bright  
Too young to suffer grief; get eaten by despair.

Today I forgave you. For leaving me behind,  
For your inhibitions, your denials and lies.  
I forget about them and only keep your eyes,  
Your smile, your gait, your laugh in the depths of my mind.

Goodbye, Neil."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is my first work on AO3, I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for all the angst. And sorry for the possibly weird sentences, I'm French and even if I've trained to write in English on my own, I don't know exactly what sounds good or bad. Please, don't hesitate to tell me, I'll really appreciate it.


End file.
